Friends?
by Mourningdawns
Summary: "Merlin."  Merlin looked over suddenly from where he sat, lighting a fire as instructed.  "Yes, sire?"  "Just checking.   I had my doubts.  Usually my Merlin is more talkative."    It isn't easy for Arthur to make friends, but he's trying.


It started innocently enough. Merlin woke Arthur one morning, saying nothing more that "Good morning, sire" as he pulled back the curtains by the windows, letting in the bright sun as it rose over Camelot. It was only days after they returned from Merlin's home, days after they had defeated Kanan. Days after Will had died.

Arthur was shocked when Merlin didn't say anything throughout breakfast, didn't grab a bite off of his plate. In fact, Merlin didn't say much throughout the rest of the day and Arthur didn't see him eat at all, even when Gwen offered him a roll she had just gotten from the kitchen.

By the time night was falling, Arthur could see cracks in the façade his servant had put up. At dinner that night, Merlin didn't talk to the other servants, didn't roll his eyes at Arthur, didn't even smile. And Arthur swore he could see him shaking, ever so slightly.

He excused himself from dinner early and Merlin followed him silently to his room.

"Merlin." Merlin looked over suddenly from where he sat, lighting a fire as instructed.

"Yes, sire?"

"Just checking. I had my doubts. Usually my Merlin is more talkative."

"I didn't think you would complain, sire." Merlin answered quietly, turning away from Arthur to look at the fire again. It wasn't that Arthur missed the snide remarks, the teasing, the constant chatter. He just wanted to know what was wrong.

As selfish as he was (he was a prince, after all), Merlin was the first person in his entire life to treat him as an equal. Well, except for Morgana, but she really didn't count. No, in Arthur's entire life, there was only one person he could consider to be his friend. And at that moment, something was wrong with him.

"Oh, I'm not complaining, Merlin. I just need to know if there's any sorcery at work here, that's all." Arthur mentally smacked himself. He wanted to know what was wrong, not make things worse, he reminded himself, remembering too-late that Will had been a sorcerer himself. Sometimes, even a prince couldn't do anything right.

On a good day, Merlin would have had some comeback to his teasing comments but today he had remained silent. "Merlin…come sit with me." Merlin crossed the room silently. "Here, sit here." Arthur scooted over and patted the seat next to him. The chair was really meant for one but it was more than big enough for the two of them.

"What do you need, sire?" Merlin asked softly.

"What's wrong, Merlin? You've been acting strange ever since we returned to Camelot." Merlin shrugged.

"Sorry, sire. It's nothing."

"_Mer_lin." Arthur sighed. "What's wrong?" Merlin didn't answer. "Do you miss home?"

"N-no, sire." Arthur never thought he would tire of being called 'sire'. It was something he'd been called his whole life, after all. But the way Merlin said it, it just bothered him. Like Merlin was only saying it so as to avoid any attention. As if, if he pacified Arthur's ego the prince wouldn't notice anything was amiss.

"Then what _is_ wrong?"

"I-it's nothing, sire." Sitting this close, Arthur could feel the younger man shaking. Looking at him, he saw that Merlin's eyes were closed, his lower lip trembling as if…as if he were about to cry.

"Merlin. Talk to me." He tried to soften his voice, tried to make it not sound like a command.

"About anything in particular, sire?"

"About what's upsetting you, you idiot! I'm not having this infuriating talk with you for my health!" 'So much for being calm and collected about this', Arthur chided himself. "I just want to know what's wrong, I thought…I thought…"

"You thought?" Any other day, Arthur would have had to endure the teasing he had accidently set himself up for but today, Merlin let that one slide.

"Morgana and Gwen, they are very close, are they not?" He changed the subject rapidly.

"Yes, sire. They are."

"I thought…I thought, maybe _we_ could…we could be…you know…" Arthur blushed. This wasn't supposed to be this hard. Here he was, crown prince of Camelot, trying to ask his servant to be his friend. It was ridiculous, really. He almost stopped until he saw the hurt that was so evident in Merlin's eyes. He had to make that go away. "We could be friends." Merlin stared at him, mouth open slightly in surprise.

"Friends?" He asked, his voice quiet.

"Friends." Arthur confirmed. Merlin nodded, leaning back into the chair. In the fire light, Arthur could see how Merlin's eyes glistened with tears. He wished he could fix it, that Merlin would let him. He'd never felt this urge towards anyone. He never cared for someone else this much before. "Tell me what's bothering you?" He asked quietly. Merlin leaned into him, quivering.

"Will…" He whispered, tears beginning to fall. He shook more. "He's gone…He's gone." He whispered. Arthur stared at Merlin for a minute before he remembered to act. He put an arm around the young servant, pulling him to his chest, into a hug.

"I'm sorry, Merlin. I'm so sorry." He really was.

"We were…best friends." Merlin choked out, before turning his face and burying it in the material of Arthur's shirt. He wept, crying harder than the prince knew a person could cry. He shuddered and sobbed, his body quaking under Arthur's hands as he rubbed his back. Merlin hiccupped and coughed, sounding as though he were dying. For one brief second, Arthur feared he was. Could grief kill a man? Finally, after an eternity, Merlin was still, his breathing calm again. His hands held loosely to Arthur's shirt, wrinkling the material and there was most certainly a damp patch from all the tears. Arthur didn't really care about those things.

"Sire..I'm sorry, I shouldn't of-" Merlin stood suddenly but Arthur grabbed him.

"Merlin. For the love of all things good and pure, please, _please_ stop calling me that."

"Sire?" The servant asked shakily.

"Yes. That."

"But, that's what you want me to call you."

"In front of my father and everyone else, yes. But you're driving me crazy."

"What should I call you then?" Merlin wiped his face, seeming more himself already. Maybe all he needed was for someone to get him to open up, to share his grief.

"Well, there's my name, for starters. You could give that a try."

"You want me to call you Arthur?" Was Merlin always this dense?

"Well, that _is_ my name, Merlin."

"Really? I could've sworn it was…prat." Merlin smiled for the first time in days. Arthur smiled back and shook his head.


End file.
